


Meetings Over Dinner

by shallwethen



Series: Mycroft and Sarah [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2018-12-31 01:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 16,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12121536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shallwethen/pseuds/shallwethen
Summary: Mycroft initially just wanted to keep on eye on Sherlock. Meetings over dinner soon became dates, and Mycroft Holmes found himself in love. It's hard for him to process, this new feeling, but eventually he knows he'll give in. It's only a matter of time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft propositions the newest resident of 221C.

     As Sarah Garner settled herself into her new apartment, she couldn’t help but smile. Moving to a new country proved more difficult than she had anticipated, and she assumed the worst. In just a few weeks, she would be beginning her PhD and teaching classes to the wonderfully enthused undergraduates. Before settling her in, Mrs. Hudson had introduced her to Sherlock Holmes, someone who was more than Sarah was prepared to handle. Luckily, his apartment was upstairs while hers was in a newly converted basement. Judging by the bullet holes in his wall, she’d be glad. Sarah decided the previous night’s sleep had been enough to give her the energy to make a grocery run. Once she was on the sidewalk, reusable bags in hand, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being followed. When the car of concern slowed, she couldn’t help but stop as she lifted a brow.

     “Get in,” a well dressed woman said simply. Sarah obliged, heart pounding in her chest. She was a people pleaser. Besides, where was this to lead? It didn’t set off any buzzers that she’d be injured. After meeting Sherlock the day before, this was a welcome sort of surprise. Once escorted into an office, she sat and smoothed her skirt self-consciously as she looked at the man behind the desk.

     “Miss Garner, I presume?” he said simply, extending a hand.

     “Yes, I am,” she nodded curtly as her hands stayed settled on her lap. “I’m sorry, but given how I arrived here, I’m tempted to forego formality.”

     “A fair judgement.” The man stood and she watched as he strode gracefully to pour himself a drink. “Would you care for one? It could help ease your nerves.”

     “I don’t take drinks from strangers,” she chuckled lightly. “Now, might I ask what has me here. I’m a student, I can’t see why--”

     “You’re pursuing your PhD in literature. Your presentations at conferences last year focused on ‘oft-maligned genres,’ as you put it. Personally, I fail to see the appeal. Horror and comic books. Most leave those interests in their teen years.”

     “Most fail to analyze them properly,” she bristled. “Again, I ask why I am here. And now, I ask how you know that.”

     “Oh you’re no fun,” he said, leaning back as he returned to his seat. “Take a guess.”

     “I’ve found myself drawing a blank. You’re not as menacing as you think you are. The more you talk, the less I fear for my safety.”

     “Hmph, I suppose I can let the cat out of the bag,” he said, steepling his fingers as he leaned forward. “First and foremost, I’m Mycroft Holmes. Brother of Sherlock. I’m sure Mrs. Hudson introduced the both of you.”

     “You’re much more, well, together than your brother,” she noted. “He called you the government.”

     “He’d experiencing a brief setback, yes. And that’s all you need to know about me. What I’m here to do is request you let me know if you hear of anything my brother is up to. I have my own means of keeping tabs on him, but I do suspect those walls are thin. Obviously, I will reimburse you.”

     “And if I opt not to play along with you distorted family dynamic?” 

     “I’ll simply make your life as difficult as I can. I have my ways of keeping tabs on you as well, my dear.”

     “I opt out with a caveat,” Sarah offered, chin held high. “He seems a danger. I can tell he’s on something. I’ll report the gun shots and any fits I may witness to you. Other than that, it’s you communicating with your brother.”

     “It’s better than nothing, I suppose,” he conceded. “We’ll revisit my offer later?”

     “No, we won’t, Mycroft. I’ll be too busy with teaching and school to be your brother’s keeper. I can discuss him with you, on occasion. But I won’t be a paid snitch.”

     “Well, would you concede to these discussions happening over dinners? If I won’t get my way, I’d at least like to be seen out with a beautiful woman as a sort of pity prize.”

     “If you want to take me to dinner, it will have to be personal rather than business. That said, flattery won’t sway me any more than money will. Now please have that car take me to the grocery store.”

     “Pity,” Mycroft replied, voice even as a ghost of a smile played on his lips. “You will be dropped at the market. I’ll be checking in with you soon enough.”

     “I’ll be counting the hours,” she said, rolling her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, all feedback is appreciated. This is my first story

     “No, no, the man living in my building is the worst,” Sarah giggled, another pint entering her system.

     “Really? He beats out the nudist?” Michelle, her cohort, challenged. “Because the nudist has yet to understand I don’t want to see everything he’s got going on.”

     “The guy in the other apartment? Strung out detective. Totally whacked. Shoots at the wall, living with another junkie, basically got a meth lab in there,” she said, watching her reaction and laughing again. “No! That’s not the worst of it! His brother works for the government. Has me picked up and wants me to inform on his brother to him. It’s crazy.”

     “His brother works for the government?” Michelle asked over the top of her beer. “Is he at least fit? If he’s going to kidnap you, he better be well fit.”

     “He’s handsome. Distinguished,” she admitted bashfully. “But the whole kidnapping thing? Total red flag. He did offer to have our meetings over dinner though.”

     “Dinner talk, then pillow talk!” Michelle finished her beer, waggling her brows at the blonde across from her as they readied to walk towards their apartments. “I say give him a dinner, Sarah. Good job, probably busy a lot. Balances out. Then he won’t have to kidnap you!”

     “Kidnapping implies she didn’t consent to getting in the car,” a voice behind them on the sidewalk remarked, and Sarah swung around with wide eyes.

     “Mycroft! Shit,” she managed. This was not how she wanted their meetings. She was tipsy enough it would be hard to keep up with him. Besides that, she had yet to decide how much she trusted him.

     “Are you the brother?” Michelle laughed, elbowing Sarah lightly in the ribs. “I suppose I’ll catch a cab. Have fun with Mr. Government.”

     “Michelle! Don’t leave me. He’ll kidnap me again.”

     “I wouldn’t stoop so low, dear. I told you these meetings would happen. I was just going to have our first little discussion over chips.”

     “Fine,” she conceded, staring daggers into the back of Michelle’s head as she hailed a cab. “Take me to the chip shop.” Mycroft nodded slightly, guiding her through the streets of London. When she ordered, he paid before settling across from her. 

     “Well Ms. Garner,” he smiled tightly. “Do tell me how my brother is?”

     “Ugh, don’t wanna,” she groaned, all she’d had to drink now fully entering her system. “The same old. Strung out. Shoots a gun. Lives with a junkie. They cook-well maybe not meth but something.”

     “Has he had any other guests?” Mycroft asked, watching her sway slightly and look at him with heavy lids. He already knew the answer, of course. He had, however, underestimated the amount Sarah had imbibed in that night. Maybe she was a lightweight or maybe she’d had more than he knew. Either way, there was little hope for a productive conversation. 

     “No. Just the guy. Maybe like one half assed case,” she said, smiling again as she at her chips. Mycroft hated to admit it, but he enjoyed seeing the drunken little smile that crossed her lips. She was in no state to go back on her own. It could be deemed rude, but he was tempted to offer her his guest room to see if her smile was as warming in the morning.

     “Well, I suppose I did fail to mention he’s a consulting detective. People tend to know. Quite a big deal in London.”  His guards fell and a genuine smile crossed his face as she scoffed.

     “He does think he’s real smart, huh? Is he always such a pain. ‘Oh, stop! I’m being impressive!’ It gets so old,” she giggled, hands waving as she mimicked her neighbor. Her mind may have been fuzzy in the moment, but seeing the small smile on the serious man’s face gave her sense of pride she did not expect. 

     “I’m the smart one,” Mycroft said as though he was telling her a secret.

     “Modest too,” she snorted. “It’s time I head home. Since you scared my company, you’re walking me.”

     “We could call my car and-”

     “No. I wanna walk. C’mon,” she said, hopping up on shaky legs and weaving out the door. It fet rather undignified to him, but Mycroft let himself catch up. She was a little unsteady, he told himself as he let her lean in and place an arm around his shoulders. 

     “You’re pissed,” he said simply, his hand moving as gentlemanly as possible to the small of her back.

     “That means drunk here, right?” she asked, grinning when he nodded. “Kinda. Thought I’d have a girls’ night. You kinda crashed it and messed up my timing.”

     “Your timing?” he asked, one brow raised.

     “I woulda been this drunk after I got home and mostly washed my face. You took me for chips and it was all ruined! Now I’ll sleep in my clothes and make up.”

     “Surely you can take care of yourself.”

     “Drunk me is too lazy. You can come wash my face though.”

     “How would I do that? I can’t support you at the sink.”

     “Make up wipes and a bowl of water?” she offered, grinning as she stood a little more.

     “Do you just want to be treated like a child?” he asked, rolling his eyes. Then she gave him another toothy grin with her nod and something inside him warmed again. “Fine. I’ll come tuck you in. You do realize you are an adult working towards their PhD?”

     “Maybe. But I’m also lazy and cute.”

     “I suppose I can agree with that,” he whispered, steering her to her apartment. “Now go change and get in bed. I’ll get water and whatever these wipes are from your restroom.”

     Sarah lit up, following directions and settling in her bed in shorts and a tank top. Mycroft had cared for plenty of drunks in his time, but he never enjoyed it. They had let themselves get that way. It wasn’t his fault. But Sarah seemed to be effecting him differently, something that was deeply unsettling for him. Pushing the discomfort down, he focused instead on the girl looking at him with eyes barely open.

     “Mycroft!” she giggled groggily. “I’m sleepy.”

     “You’re drunk,” he corrected, holding out two aspirin and a glass. “Take these before we wash your face.”

     “Do you only wear suits?” she asked as she downed her pills. “Because it’s so late and not a work day and you’re wearing a suit?”

     “Everyday is a work day,” he said plainly, taking the wipe and starting to clean her face. When he’d finished, he stood and ran a hand over her hair. “Get some sleep, dear. We’ll talk again soon.”

     “Hopefully when I’m not pissed,” she managed, voice thick with sleep and pride at her use of slang.

     “Yes, one can only hope.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back to give this story valid attention

“You can stop hiding,” Sarah called over her shoulder, adjusting the worn, leather bag on her shoulder. Mycroft stepped around the corner, hands in the pockets of his coat. 

“You’ll catch cold,” he said simply, deciding to gloss over the fact it was her shapely legs that were barely protected by a pair of sheer tights. 

“Thanks, mom,” she teased, opting to ignore the fact she truly was freezing. She leaned against the brick wall, back flat against it. Mycroft came to stand in front of her, examining her. 

“I know you’ve decided not to report to me on my brother, but there’s been someone in their flat, hasn’t there?” Sarah sighed, leaning back to dig her phone out and check her email. 

“Well, some blonde. I don’t know. They went for such a long, late walk I thought she may not be a client. That’s all I’ll tell you.” 

“Ah, yes. He wanted to get a message to me.” Sarah chuckled at the somewhat fond smile that crossed his face. “What does she look like?”

“I didn’t commit it to memory. I saw them leaving.” Mycroft nodded, moving to lean beside her and light a cigarette. “You can stop trying to pretend this is some sort of duty. You’re worried, aren’t you?”

“Someone just has to keep him in line.” She deserved to know there was a reason to be concerned. There were more than two Holmes siblings, and some part of him knew the east wind was coming. Sarah deserved to be safe. He could tell she seemed to think this was simply the case of an overprotective brother; this was just about addiction. In another world, he’d have ignored his brother and taken the first opportunity to take Miss Garner to dinner. Instead, he had the nation to worry about. He had his brother. His family’s feelings.

Sarah could see the nervousness etched into Mycroft’s face. Despite the oddness that permeated her experiences with him, she wanted to do something to help. His brow was ever so slightly knitted and he seemed even stiffer than usual. 

“Why don’t you come to my apartment?” she offered, turning to look at him more fully. “I can fix you something to eat. You need to relax for an evening.”

“Miss Garner--”

“Sarah.” A soft chuckle from him.

“Sarah. I can’t be spending my time on Baker Street. I would love to say yes, but my brother will be suspicious.” Though he’d pretend it had nothing to do with the ever so slight shift in her demeanor, he added, “You could come to my house. It’s a drive but I have got a guest room.”

“Are you inviting me to a slumber party?” she grinned, the excitement returning to her eyes. 

“Well, if that’s what you wish to call it.”

“Let me go get a change of clothes.” Mycroft nodded.

“My car will pick you up in an hour at Baker Street. Though, I must say I don’t understand why you’d want to spend an evening with me.”

“Research,” she teased, bumping his hip with her own as she passed. That was when Mycroft knew he’d have to walk a fine line. He wanted her, but he certainly didn’t deserve her. One of them had to keep the distance.


	4. Chapter 4

“Thank you for reporting to me on Sherlock,” Mycroft said, settling in an armchair. Sarah had placed her bags in his guest room. They had eaten a few dinners together and walking in to see him without his jacket on was almost alarming. She settled in the chair beside him and gave a soft smile.

“Of course,” she said softly. “I kind of figured out this is all secretly brotherly love.” Mycroft let out a noise, adjusting his sleeves. “It’s true. I can tell you’re concerned.”

“It’s just my duty.”

“Mycroft, it’s more than that.” He sat straighter, and Sarah couldn’t help but admire the fact he was one of the few men she’d seen that wore sleeve garters. Mycroft was focusing on not letting her in. He wanted to tell her about finding his brother nearly dead, that he now kept a list of what he’d taken so that when he did overdose, Mycroft could save him. That wasn’t why he’d found her today. 

“There’s an event I have to attend tomorrow,” he said simply, ignoring the subject of his brother. “Political figures. Dignitaries. I need someone to accompany me.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“I’m asking you to accompany me. I’ll purchase your attire.” Sarah wanted to put her hand on his knee and tell him she’d rather be his date. Instead, she nodded softly. 

“Promise we can go pick it though? I want to feel pretty if I have to meet important people.”

“You’re always beautiful. Why do you think I’ve invited you?” he said, lifting a brow as the slightest of smiles tugged at his lip. “But I’ll take you shopping. I have the day off to prepare. However, I’ll have you know I’m a terrible shopper.”

“All I want you to do is tell me which dress is most appropriate. If my brain isn’t why you invited me, I suppose I’ll need your opinion what should be flaunted.”

“If you insist,” he chuckled, moving to pour her a glass of wine. “I know you offered me something to eat, but I’ve taken the liberty of ordering in. It’s no fish and chips, but you have had a tendency to order your meals in the same family of flavors. And always beef, did you know that? I’m starting to suspect you usually want the steak but feel you shouldn’t order it since I won’t let you pay.” 

He was showing his hand, and Mycroft knew it. He cared about her. Sherlock was nothing but a thinly veiled excuse to spend his Friday evenings with Sarah. Her Ph.D. gave him an excuse to invite her to the government function. She’s charming and can make up for me he thought to himself. On occasion, Mycroft dreamed of the day he could drop the pretense and simply take her hand, yet he knew that day was not going to come. He needed to call Sherrinford. He needed to keep his brother on track. Needed to protect the nation. And Sarah needed a man both braver and freer than he could be.

“Look at you. There’s the similarity to Sherlock. Deduction stuff,” she teased, sipping her wine as she watched him. It was different watching him in his element. He seemed like he could breathe. 

“Yes, well deduction stuff has a filet on its way for you. We can eat, watch a film. And then tomorrow I’ll take you to find a dress that makes you feel pretty.”

“The mocking tone is coming in strong tonight,” she grinned. “Thank you, Mycroft. You really spoil me. Keep this up and you’ll never be rid of me.” And how she hoped that would be so. Domesticity suited Mycroft, though she doubted he’d ever be caught in anything less formal than he wore now. All that he was missing was his coat and his suit jacket. 

"Yes well, you make it so easy, my dear," he hummed, standing to fetch their dinner. "I'll be back with that filet."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback would be greatly appreciated.

“What do you like?” he asked Sarah, pulling his hand away from her back for the fourth or fifth time as they walked along the array of gowns. He found himself analyzing each one, and none were good enough for her.

“I’m assuming you’ll be in a tux?” she asked with a soft smile, looking over at Mycroft. “Maybe black? Match you?”

“You’ll have people think we’re an item.”

“There are worse fates,” she smiled, fingers trailing one now. She wanted to be dressed appropriately, sure, but she also hoped that maybe she’d get another compliment from him. Maybe even a soft touch in passing. It was off the shoulder with just the slightest dip in the center. Otherwise, it was a mermaid dress, and Sarah hoped the way it would show off her figure would please him. “Is this one in the budget?”

“Just go try it on,” he said, rolling his eyes at her. “I had dresses pulled for you. That’s why you’ve got this special rack.” 

“Again, going to spoil me.” She ducked into the dressing room with the saleslady. Already, Sarah had dodged the dreaded how long have you been together? It had struck her as she redirected the blonde that her friendship with Mycroft was more than a little strange. She was certainly attracted to him. It seemed he at least liked her company, which was more than most could claim. The dress was zipped, and as she examined herself, Sarah was suddenly self-conscious. Stepping out, she called for him.

“It’s perfect,” Mycroft said, swallowing as he tried to tear his eyes away. She was fair but with dark red hair. The black suited her. And then there was the way the fit suited her. If he pretended he hadn’t noticed her figure before, he couldn’t now. She fidgeted nervously under his gaze as he looked back to her face, and he wanted to step forward and put his hands on the swell of her hips. Instead, he repeated, “It’s perfect.”

“Is it?” she blushed, unsure how to take his change in demeanor. He nodded and she smiled up at him. “So I guess it’s a winner?”

“Yes, most certainly,” he said, standing straighter and trying his best to move away from these feelings that kept cropping up. Caring is not an advantage.

Sarah went in to change, proud of the reaction she’d gotten. It threw her off, but she had grown to recognize Mycroft wasn’t any good when he had emotions. If he couldn’t admit to caring about Sherlock, it would be a long time before he got used to her. She came back out as the saleslady kept the dress. 

“I’m ready,” she smiled, moving beside him.

“Nonsense,” he scoffed. “You need shoes. And jewelry.”

“Mycroft,” she said, hand going to his forearm. The movement caused him to stiffen. “You really are spoiling me. I’ve got shoes at home. And some studs that will look nice.”

“Then let me buy you a necklace,” he said, voice lighter. “Trust me, I’m not concerned about the cost. You said you want to feel pretty. And I want to continue spoiling you.” She nodded, able to recognize this was his way of saying he’d grown fond of her. She followed him to the jewelry display, biting her lip as she looked down at the necklaces. He pointed at a simple one: a gold bar pendant with a row of small stones. “I think this one. Then you can wear it outside of the event.”

“People who say you’re heartless are full of shit,” she said softly. His hand moved to the small of her back. Maybe this could be okay. Just a touch...

“Don’t be daft. I’m the iceman.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Sherlock, yes, I am spending time with Mycroft. We’re friends.”

“Mycroft doesn’t have friends. You live in this building, so at best you’re a spy.” Sarah’s hair was in rollers and a robe as she stood outside Mrs. Hudson’s apartment. She’d just needed to borrow sugar for her coffee. Then Sherlock found her. “Let me give you the information at least. And you tell me what you tell him.”

“Sherlock, no. Life doesn’t revolve around you. Go away. I’m busy.”

“Is the date with the man from the sandwich shop? He does fancy you.”

“No. I’m accompanying Mycroft to an event,” she said, taking the sugar when Mrs. Hudson came out and storming off as he turned his attention to a distraught Mrs. Hudson.

Once she was settled in her room, Sarah set to work. She wrangled her hair into an updo, leaving her make up simple, but deciding a red lipstick might get her just enough attention. SHe smiled softly as she put on the necklace, fingers brushing over the pendant. She was reading way too much into the situation, but the man gave her butterflies. She was content to only see him once a week, but she wanted to touch him. Soon enough, she was dressed and waiting nervously as she held a clutch. Suddenly, it struck her that this was the first time she’d be seeing him that was planned. Sure, she saw him regularly, but usually, it was him sending a text for her to be outside. When she heard a hushed voice talking with Mrs. Hudson, she stepped outside.

“I’m going to have to steal him away, Mrs. Hudson,” she smiled softly, cheeks red as she stepped towards the pair.

“Sarah, you look beautiful. I hope he’s aware he ought to be grateful you’ll be seen with him,” she smiled, reaching to pull her down to kiss the younger woman’s cheek in the way only a mother can get away with.

“I am,” Mycroft managed, eyes raking over her. This was what would do him in. She looked stunning and ready to be in the environment he was thrusting her into. There was no doubt in Mycroft’s mind academia had taught her to charm whoever they encountered. And she seemed genuinely happy to be spending an evening with him. That part of the night was going to be the newest for him. He stepped to her side, hand settling on the small of her back. It felt comfortable and right. Maybe he couldn’t build a life with her, but maybe he could at least let himself loosen up. Mrs. Hudson gave him a knowing smile before going back to her flat, and Sarah directed her gaze to him now. He may have paid for her dress, but something about the simple necklace made him feel like he’d marked her. She was his companion for the evening-he’d never say date-and seemed pleased. 

“You look handsome as ever,” she smiled, hand smoothing over the lapels of his jacket. He was firmer than she’d imagined. Had she imagined this moment? Touching his chest as they stood in the hallway of 221?

“And you look ravishing,” he murmured, the hand at his side moving to cover hers. “It is probably best we get to the car before my brother decides to barge in.” She nodded, and he kept his hand on her back to guide her. Soon enough, they were at the party. Eyes were on him, he could tell. It was rare he brought a plus one, much less a plus one he kept as close as he did Sarah. 

“Is that the prime minister?” she asked in a hushed tone as she took a glass of champagne from Mycroft gladly. He simply nodded, and she found herself smiling as he placed his hand on her back again. “Why are people looking at us?”

“It’s been years since I’ve been at one of these events with someone.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her proud smirk. “Don’t get arrogant, my dear. It’s quite gauche.”

“I forget. I’m just arm candy, right? My brains mean nothing.”

“Not exactly. You’re intelligent and beautiful. Quite a rare pairing, wouldn’t you say?”

“If so, we’re a rare pair. You’re handsome and brilliant.” He rolled his eyes. “Careful, that response? Compliments? ‘My dear’? Someone may think you’re courting me.”

“There are worse fates, I suppose.”


	7. Chapter 7

Sarah stayed by his side as Mycroft led her around. He introduced her to more people than she could ever remember, and when they’d run out of champagne, he asked her to dance. Correctly, he assumed she didn’t know how to formally dance.

“Just follow my lead,” he assured her. “I doubt you’ll quite pick it up, but no one can see your feet. It’s an advantage of gowns, I imagine.” She’d laughed at that, her hand moving to rest on his shoulder. His hand on her back gave him the opportunity to let his thumb rest on her bare skin. He savored it, holding her a little closer than was probably appropriate. Just a hair, however, and just enough that whoever saw them might think they were in love.

“I’m guessing you learned to dance growing up?” she smiled, enjoying the opportunity to see his face this close up. If she were more confident, she might have kissed him.

“I did. Our parents were insistent. And we learned instruments. My brother took violin. I picked piano,” he smiled fondly. She wanted to record it because, for once, he wasn’t hiding the contentedness. 

“I’m from Georgia. I learned to ride a horse and clean a deer.” 

“Well, to each their own,” he chuckled. “You’ve got everyone here believing you grew up in these situations.”

“Thank goodness. I wouldn’t want anyone here to think you’re courting a commoner.”

“Absolutely,” he said, thumb brushing against her skin in time to the rhythm. When the song came to an end, he brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them lightly. He let her go as he moved to get them each another drink, handing her one as part of one fluid movement. She stayed by his side, listening as the prime minister spoke. She responded where she felt able, but soon, Mycroft was guiding her away. He was needed somewhere. Soon enough she was by his side as he led her into a room. 

“Sherlock left the apartment. Normally, I would not let you near work. That said, he’s someone you deal with too,” he said stiffly, hands now kept to himself. The shift that occurred as he entered fully fledged work mode made her nervous, and the woman he spoke to quite honestly scared her. What she disliked the most was when she was introduced only as the girl that lives in Sherlock’s building. 

“Everyone dies. It’s the one thing human beings can be relied upon to do,” he’d said when Lady Smallwood suggested John Watson might be grieving.

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” Sarah chided him, hand resting on his back. When he bristled, she dropped it. He continued his conversation as though she wasn’t there. It stung, but this was his work. Or at least, these were his colleagues. It seemed strange to her he’d be using government resources to watch Sherlock. Apparently, he did this often because as they traced the route, it appeared he’d intentionally spelled FUCK OFF. She settled for simply watching Mycroft as he called John.

“The fact that I’m his brother changes absolutely nothing. It didn’t the first time and it won’t with--” As soon as the words had left his mouth, she saw his whole demeanor change. She waited until they were in the car. He hadn’t spoken to her yet, and he was as far as he could get. 

“Mycroft, what happened?”

“Sherlock left his flat to give me a message.” She turned in her seat, sighing as she watched him.

“You aren’t stupid. You know I’m asking about the first time. Do you have another sibling?”

“I’m afraid that isn’t any of your business, Miss Garner,” he said cooly. He regretted how he was treating her as soon as he said it. She’d been smiling through their entire day together. It had been because of him. Now she looked close to tears and that was because of him too. 

“I suppose you’re right,” she said softly, looking down at her lap. “It was silly of me to get carried away. I was arm candy for the night, right?”

“Precisely,” he said before he could stop himself, the self imposed restrictions coming back. A storm was coming and he could feel it. If this had continued, she’d end up hurt. What he didn’t expect was how strong the urge to reach over and hold her would be when a tear did fall from her eye. “Sarah--”

“No, it’s fine,” she’d managed as the car stopped outside Baker street. “Goodnight Mycroft.” Before he could respond or try to apologize, she’d taken off. He tried to call her, and she sent him to voicemail. While the instinctual part of him that knew he should stay away fought it, the part of him that couldn’t forget the feel of her against him as they danced ensured roses would be delivered the next morning.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been three weeks since Mycroft had seen Sarah. She ignored his calls, and he wasn’t rude enough to just show up when he’d obviously hurt her feelings. That said, he ensured a vase of flowers came every Saturday. It didn’t matter to him how long it took. Sarah, on the other hand, was not refusing to answer from hurt. She was embarrassed she’d let herself believe this could go anywhere but friendship. Each morning, the coffee made her smile, but it also made the wound sting. Anyone else would feel there was some affection behind the gesture. She knew better now. Mycroft did not expect that she would finally call as a helicopter was following Mrs. Hudson or that his brother would be in the boot of the car. He answered relieved to hear her voice.

“Sarah,” he said softly, glad he was in the privacy of his office. “I miss you.” He’d never said something that made him feel so weak.

“Mycroft, I’m not calling for you,” she’d managed, clinging to the door of Mrs. Hudson’s car. “My feelings are still hurt and I don’t know what to do there. But Mrs. Hudson is driving like three times the speed limit and Sherlock finally went too far. The whole Culverton Smith tweet and then he was screaming and nearly shot Mrs. Hudson on accident. She cuffed him and I got the boys from Speedy’s to load him in her trunk.”

“You do know the boys from Speedy’s fancy you,” he said more bitterly than he intended.

“You don’t get to whine,” she bit out. “You were a complete ass. I thought you fancied me but obviously I was wrong. Just, when we get there, keep Mrs. Hudson from getting arrested. There’s a helicopter. And lots of cops.”

“Only if you’ll get in the car I’m sending to bring you here afterwards.”

“Jesus Christ. Fine! Just do it, okay?” 

He knew it was a powerplay as soon as he did it, but the way she seemed to react to the idea he didn’t fancy her brought a tightness to his chest. Maybe he could get things back on the right   
track. He hated knowing she didn’t want to speak with him. 

Sarah waited by the car, having shoved her cell phone at the police officer. When Mrs. Hudson let Sherlock out, she opted to wait outside, taking her phone back from the officer.

_See you soon. -MH_

_You’re a bastard -SG_

When the car pulled up, she climbed in, ignoring Mycroft’s assistant as she opted to play a game on her phone instead. When they arrived, she was escorted into an office and sat herself in a seat in front of Mycroft’s desk. He felt relief to see her, no matter how angry she seemed to be.

“Sarah,” he said softly as soon as the door was closed.

“Mister Holmes,” she replied coolly, arms crossed. Her response to him stung. “I got the flowers and the coffee.”

“I’m sorry for implying you were arm candy,” he said, moving to lean on his desk in front of her. “You’re much more than that.”

“You didn’t imply it. You said it, Mycroft. I just feel stupid. I thought you fancied me, too.” She knew she’d said too much, but it hurt. She cared for him and respected him. The way he just turned off any affection for her made her feel alone. 

“I do fancy you,” he whispered, posture getting tenser. “I don’t know how to fancy someone. And I shouldn’t. In my job, it’s dangerous.”

“I’m a big girl. I figured that out. But you kept being so sweet. Looking at me like I’m special. Then you just got so cold.” 

“Sarah, that’s going to be the hardest part,” he said, moving to sit beside her and take her hand. “If we continue to spend time together, if this is to truly become a courtship, you need to understand I can’t tell you some things. I can’t be affectionate in front of people. More importantly, I don’t know how. Caring is not an advantage, but I care for you.”

“So do I get to pick what this is?” He nodded, squeezing her hand. “You’re starting from scratch. Pick me up Friday at eight.”

“May I cook you dinner?” he asked, kissing her fingers. “Chicken cordon bleu? That’s what you ordered at our first real dinner.”

“That sounds good to me,” she smiled softly as she stood. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

“You’re wearing the necklace.”

“I still care about you. I need to get home, though.”

“I’ll call you a car,” he told her, pausing to place his hands on her hips. “You’re much more than beautiful, Sarah dear. You’re smart enough I choose to spend my free time with you. No matter what I may say when I’m trying to keep my distance, that is the truth. I do not waste my time with fools.” She smiled softly, kissing his cheek. 

“I’ll try to remember that. If you do anything that stupid again, this is completely over. I’m still hurt.” Sarah went home and before the end of the night, she received another bouquet, this time red roses.

_I’ll be counting the hours. -MH_


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad people are enjoying this story. I'm still trying to decide where things will go. I plan to do a little of the post-season 4 aftermath, but am not sure what's going to come after that. Let me know if you have any ideas!

The wait from Tuesday to Friday was excruciating for both of them. For Sarah, she had little to do outside of school. She spent more time than she would care to admit debating outfits. For Mycroft, he had to keep an eye on the Culverton Smith case and avoid upsetting anyone. When he stayed as John watched Mary’s tape, he’d done it because he, like Sherlock considered himself part of the group and part of the family. Mrs. Hudson called him a reptile, and he found himself going to Sarah’s door, even though it was Thursday. He was done working for the day. 

“Mycroft?” she grinned, clad in leggings - those weren’t fair - and an old college t-shirt. She motioned for him to come in, turning off the music that she’d been cleaning to. “Our date is tomorrow.”

“Yes,” he nodded, ignoring the bright feeling remembering they had an official date brought. “I just needed to see you. It’s been a long week.” He left out Lady Smallwood’s card that he’d brought home Monday in a moment of weakness. If I can’t be with Sarah, maybe some transaction could occur with Elizabeth to forget her, he’d thought. It was stupid, he knew now.

“Are you alright?” she asked, moving to pour him a glass of wine before he could continue.

“Yes. Just wanted to make my day better by seeing you,” he said with the slightest smile on his face as he accepted the wine. “I was thinking I could take you to dinner tonight. I’ll still cook for you tomorrow.”

“I’d like that,” she said softly, sitting beside him. “But drink your wine. You need to relax first.”

“Yes dear,” he chuckled lightly, doing as she said. “Remind me to buy you better wine.”

“My wine is just fine,” she said, feigning offense.

“That’s just it. You should have superb wine.”

“Damn, Mycroft. You covered your ass,” she teased. “I’m going to get dressed. How dressy on a scale of one to ten?”

“A nice dress and heels is a seven, correct?”

“Close enough. I have to shower. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Do you ever take your necklace off?” he asked, watching her. 

“No. Why?”

“Just curious,” he said, leaning back to sip his wine as she got ready. He hated to admit the necklace still brought up the same feeling he’d marked her. As long as she wore it, she still fancied him. Maybe that was more emotional than he wanted to accept, but it made him feel secure. Maybe what scared him was as much that she’d leave him. When he looked up to see her stepping out in a wrap dress and pumps, he stared more openly than he had before.

“What?” she blushed, smoothing her skirt nervously. She wanted to be able to say she hadn’t agonized over which dress he would like to see her in. She went with a deep purple that showed her waistline off and gave just enough cleavage. He was staring and she found herself wondering if it was too much? Maybe it wasn’t enough. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, moving to walk over to her. “I was just admiring the woman that keeps choosing to spend time with me.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, hands smoothing his jacket as she looked up at him. He gave her the slightest of smiles, offering her his arm. 

“We’re taking my car. There’s a nice quiet place. It’s been too long since I last saw you.”

“Yeah?” she smiled softly. “It’s getting late, Mycroft.”

“You can stay at my house. I’m a gentleman, you know.” She stopped him as they waited for his car, smiling up at him as his stomach fluttered. He’d underestimated how knowing she wanted to spend time with him would impact him. His arm moved to wrap around her as he spotted the younger man he’d seen staring at her in the past doing so now. It was the most contact he’d has since they danced, but he’d be damned if that boy thought he was just friendly with her. “I can work from home tomorrow, so you are more than welcome to stay until dinner. I’m afraid I will be boring.

“I need to work on my dissertation,” she smiled softly, leaning into him as they waited. “I’ll need to get a bag.”

“I’ll have someone pick up your bag. Any particular clothes?” he asked, texting with his free hand. 

“You don’t know that my stuff is in my bag.”

“Always is. If your laptop is inside, the back right corner bulges. You were also cleaning, so you haven’t used it today because you’re avoiding grading. It also tilts the rack when your books are in it. Now, what clothes?”

“Stop showing off, even if it’s impressive.”

“You find me impressive?” he smirked down at her, pocketing his phone as the car pulled up. He took the liberty of requesting leggings and a longer blouse. If she wasn't going to tell him, he'd ensure he got to appreciate her figure.

“Don’t get cocky, Holmes.”

"Never, Sarah dear."


	10. Chapter 10

When Mycroft woke, it was before Sarah. They’d slept together, and it wasn’t anything sexual. She’d suggested it, and Mycroft Holmes was not stupid enough to turn down waking up to her. It had been surprisingly domestic, something he surprisingly loved. She changed into her pajamas, taking over his bathroom as she washed her face. He was already in his own pajamas, sitting up in bed and trying to read. It was a ritual he’d had for years, but it was much harder to focus on his book when he could see Sarah through the open bathroom door clad in a matching pajama set, shorts and a button down not unlike his own long sleeve long pants pajamas, as she went about her nightly routine. He’d have to thank whoever remembered her toiletries.   
  
“I can see you, y’know,” she teased lightly, catching his gaze in the mirror. 

“I’m glad to know there’s no concerns about your vision to be had,” he deflected, looking back down at his book. He’d never worried he might be blushing before now. Thankfully, he wasn’t.

“I stare at you too.” His eyebrow lifted at that as he looked up. “It’s true. I’m just sneakier.”

“You’ve no need to hide it,” he said, eyes following her as she walked to the other side of the bed with her own book in hand. “What are you reading?”

“Wilkie Collins,” she said, moving so she was close to him. His arm came to rest around her as he held his book with one hand. “ _ Woman in White _ . I try to read things I enjoy from time to time.”

“I just finished  _ The Moonstone _ ,” he chuckled. “I moved on to  _ Laura _ .”

“You’d think you like detectives.”

“I’ve no knowledge of them in the real world.”

“Sure. And I don’t know anyone teaching Victorian novels.”

“Precisely,” he said, kissing her temple softly. He’d finally kissed her after dinner, and the fact she looked up at him and kissed him made him feel more confident it had been the right thing. They stayed close together and read for a while, settling into bed once they’d each found a stopping point. He liked his space, but Sarah rolled onto her side and placed her hand on his chest. Mycroft liked the contact, pulling her closer. 

“Am I making you affectionate?” she teased. 

“Only when it comes to you,” he’d said sleepily, as her head settled on his chest. “Get some rest, darling.” 

Now that he was awake, Mycroft found himself content to watch her sleep. He knew he should start preparing for the day. He managed to untangle himself from her, unable to stop himself from grinning when she reached for him.

“Myc,” she whined, eyes closed as she stretched. “Come back.”

“I’ve got to get dressed for work. Louise, the maid, cooks breakfast, and it will be ready at six thirty. I must check my e-mail before I shower. Would you like to shower first?” She nodded, eyes finally opening. 

“Go do the government man thing. I’ll be out of the shower by the time you’re back.” And she was. He came in to see her at the mirror, blow drying her hair. Whoever brought her clothes ignored his request and remembered he had appointments, even if he was home. Still, she was wearing tapered brown slacks and a cream sweater. Mycroft watched her fondly, noting she tended to dress as classically as he did. Maybe narcissism was why he liked her, or maybe it was the fact she wasn’t put off by him. He moved to her side, kissing her lightly as the blowdryer stopped. 

“I like you staying here,” he said softly. He knew being with him could be dangerous for her, but he was already taking precautions. She had security she didn’t know about. He wouldn’t let anything hurt her.

“I like it too,” she whispered, kissing his fingers. The affection made his heart flutter again. 

“My home’s always open to you, Sarah. It’s fast, but I want you to know I have no intention of this being short term.”

“It’s not short term for me either,” she assured him. If she was braver, or crazier, she’d have said she’d just live there. Mycroft’s slick black cars could pick her up and drop her off daily. She knew this needed to move slowly, however, so she turned back to the mirror, catching his gaze in it. “I could come weekends?”

“That would be best,” he agreed begrudgingly. “I’ll meet you downstairs. I’ve a sort of conference table in the office. We’ll get you set up there.”

As they worked, Mycroft found himself watching her. He had a meeting with Lady Smallwood and felt this was one of the things you tell your- girlfriend felt silly. Partner? Maybe he should clarify that as well.

“Darling?” he asked.

“Yes?” Sarah grinned, looking up from her notes. 

“I’ve a meeting today with Lady Smallwood. She’s the one you met that night,” Sarah nodded tightly. “I want you to know she propositioned me. I would never pursue it, but I know that’s something you probably want me to tell you as you are my significant other.”

“I don’t like her,” Sarah grumbled, unable to stop herself from feeling jealous. “But I trust you. I appreciate you informing me, and it lets me know you won’t act on it. That’s what you’re supposed to do. You deduced correctly.”

“It’s based more upon film and people boring me with their relationships.”

“Significant other is a weird name.”

“I was thinking partner is most appropriate.”

“I can’t imagine you saying ‘girlfriend’ so I agree.”

“It’s agreed then,” he said, looking back at his papers. 

“That’s the most formal defining of a relationship I’ve ever had.”

“I need labels. Categorization is pertinent to keeping things in order.” She stood, going to kiss him softly.    
“What category is a lunch break in?”

“Unnecessary unless you want one.”

“I want one. Let’s go eat.”


	11. Chapter 11

Sarah had to wait in the rest of the house as Mycroft, Lady Smallwood, and another man met in Mycroft’s office. She found Lady Smallwood’s personal card on his kitchen counter, dropping it into the trash. He said things should take about an hour, and when the time neared she waited near his door. The moment it opened, she started to stand, making her way over. 

“Lady Smallwood,” she smiled as warmly as she could muster. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“We’ve met?” 

“Not formally. I came to an event with Myc about a month ago. Sherlock started acting up again,” she hummed. Mycroft was watching the pair, amused. It seemed he wasn’t the only one with a possessive streak.

“Lady Elizabeth Smallwood, my partner Sarah Garner. Sarah, you remember Lady Smallwood.” As lady Smallwood stepped into the hall, Sarah stepped in. She went to a cabinet, taking her laptop and book out to set them in the spot she’d been working. 

“Sweetheart,” she called to Mycroft once he’d said goodbye, but not before Lady Smallwood left. “Can you tell me if this chapter flows well once you’ve finished working? The idea is there but I’m having a bit of trouble communicating it.”

“Of course darling. Just let me finish some paperwork,” he said with the slightest of smiles. She watched Lady Smallwood leave as Mycroft closed the door and moved to her. “Someone gets jealous.”

“You got a deathgrip when Joey came out of Speedy’s,” she teased, hands resting on his chest as his went to her hips. “Apparently, you’re mine, and I want her knowing you’re mine.”

“You never take the necklace off,” he noted again. “Do you know why I like that?”

“Why?”

“I bought it. I didn’t buy it with this intention, but when I see you wearing it it’s a sign you are mine. So, I understand your need to barge in and make a show in front of Lady Smallwood. Are there any coworkers I need to make a show in front of?”

“It’s kind of hot you’re possessive. Y’know, the guy in my program teaching American literature hits on me.”

“Oh does he?” Mycroft asked, grip tightening. 

“Yeah. Likes my Southern accent. Asked me about my necklace,” she chuckled. “Unfortunately we were fighting, but I did say it’s from the man who sent the roses.”

“I suppose I’ll be picking you up for lunch this week.”

“You’re about to put on a charming boyfriend show, aren’t you?”

“I’m just going to take you out to lunch, darling,” he hummed, kissing her temple and feathering kisses down her cheek and jaw until he reached her lips. She hummed into their kiss, arms wrapping around him. It was their first prolonged kiss Mycroft found himself noteing. He pulled her against him, heart pounding as he kissed her slowly. His hands moved slowly to the small of her back and it took a concerted effort not to let them roam lower. Her teeth grazed his lower lip and a very undignified groan left him. Reluctantly, he pulled away, hands running over her sides. 

“Why’d you stop?” she whined playfully, hands running along his shoulders. 

“Because my office is not the place,” he murmured, slowly composing himself. “I really must do paperwork, darling. Maybe we can resume this after.”

“Are you asking me to make out with you when you finish work?”

“Maybe after dinner? I bought candles.”

“You’re a romantic, aren’t you?”

“Obviously,” he said, his composure back as he went to his desk. He noticed her fiddling with the gold bar pendant on the necklace, a habit she hadn’t had before. Was it the knowledge he thought of it as his mark on her? Little did he know it actually was. She was tempted to get a small gold “M” to hang from it. It was now in many ways a reminder for her that they both intended to navigate this together. She was practical when it came to relationships. Things may well end. That said, thus far they were well matched and he seemed like someone who rarely placed trust in anyone outside himself, yet he chose her. 

There was something else. He was her person. The physical and romantic attraction was a perk. Before anything else, he was who she’d come to trust the most. It had been a few weeks of knowing each other before she was his date. Then a few weeks of fighting, during which she was never truly angry. Now it had been a week of him obviously trying to keep communication open and she was grateful. For him, she was the first person whose company he found himself prefering to solitude. They understood each other. Neither needed constant touch or assurance, though she had a tendency to  _ want _ touch. They just wanted the support and solace.

“Myc?” she said softly, looking over at him as she closed her book.

“Yes?” he answered, setting his pen aside.

“You’re my best friend.”

“And you are mine, Sarah dear.”


	12. Chapter 12

When Mycroft woke up to Sarah Saturday morning, things were different. He’d intended to move slowly, but the evening had just felt so right that when she unbuttoned his shirt he decided to let go. He had always thought spooning seemed silly, but having his arms around her bare waist and his face in her hair made him realize that spooning made a lot more sense than he’d given it credit for. His logical mind didn’t consider that having his lover close and feeling he was somehow cradling and protecting her would outweigh the fact he was warmer than he usually liked and his arm had fallen asleep. He buried his face in her hair, the movement causing her to wake.

“Myc?” she yawned, wriggling in his arms to lay on her back so she could see him. “Why are you awake so early?”

“Habit,” he answered, fingers trailing her bare skin.

“Last night was perfect,” she whispered, eyes trailing from his face to his shoulder where she’d apparently left a mark on him. She knew he’d be in dress shirts every day, but she liked knowing her mark would be on his skin.

“It was,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her lovingly. “We have to get up soon. I’m going to visit Sherlock in the hospital. Mummy and father are coming. It was on the news so I couldn’t keep his current state from her.”

“You’re a mama’s boy aren’t you?” she smiled softly, watching him. He rolled his eyes but the faintest smile stayed on his lips.

“I do realize things are new and this would be quite a large step in our relationship quite quickly. That said, would you care to come with me?”

“There’s no better excuse to get approved by mummy,” she chuckled. “Are they like you and Sherlock?”

“Father is not. He’s intelligent, but mummy is a genius. She gave up work when Sherlock was born. I was seven.”

“She probably realized you two were going to be trouble.”

“Sherlock is trouble. She simply realized I needed friends.” The idea of a young Mycroft spending his days alone didn’t sit well with her, but Sarah decided to gloss over it for now.

“You’ll need to come to Baker Street with me. I’m out of clean clothes, and I’d like to look nice.” He gave a soft nod, kissing her again. 

“Of course. Now, I do believe it would make the most sense for you to join me in the shower. Water conservation.”

“Ah yes, I forget you’re an environmentalist,” she laughed. “Y’know, you can just want to shower with me, Myc. Believe it or not, I’d like to shower with you.”   
He huffed lightly, and Sarah almost would swear she saw his cheeks flush ever so slightly. Soon enough they were in her apartment. She had dresses laid out, all of which he knew his mother would approve of. Though he’d never admit it, when he’d realized he stood a chance, Mycroft researched relationships. The preoccupation with her appearance today was endearing because some part of him recognized it mattered to her.

“I think you’d be most comfortable in the cigarette pants,” he advised, sitting in the armchair in her bedroom. “You adjust your skirts quite often. I think you assume they catch themselves on your bag. And you also tend to appear the most relaxed in sweaters. Besides,” he paused to take a breath. “I like the way you look in that combination. You veer towards the vintage bombshell.”

“You think so?” she asked, flushing a deep red as she lit up. He felt proud as he looked up at her, his chest puffing ever so slightly. 

“Yes, I do,” he continued. “You have a simply tantalizing figure. It shows it off.”

“I like compliments instead of excuses,” she teased, kissing him. She changed into plaid to compliment his suit, tucking in the simple white sweater and situating her ever-present necklace. She opted for flats, finding she’s been enjoying being much smaller than Mycroft. He offered his arm as she grabbed her purse. 

“Again, beautiful,” he said softly as they settled into his car.

“I have to keep up with you, my dear,” she smiled softly. “I’m fortunate to have an incredibly handsome partner.” He made a noise, offering his arm again as they made their way inside. “Sherlock will be fine, but his kidneys are healing. He will be returning to Baker Street this afternoon. Mummy and father will situate him, then John, Molly, and I will take shifts watching him.”  
“I can take on a couple shifts if you need.” 

“I’d rather you not be burdened with this.”

“Then come see me after yours. You’ll need to decompress.”

“No, I’ll be fine.” She rolled her eyes as they went to Sherlock’s room. She could hear playful bickering from who she assumed to be Mr. Holmes and whining from Sherlock. What she did not expect was the woman who appeared before her. 

“You’re Sarah,” she beamed, and that moment told her all she needed to know. This was mummy.

“Yes, I am,” she smiled as she released Mycroft’s arm.

“He didn’t tell me you were pretty. Mycroft, why didn’t you tell me she was so pretty?”

“She's remarkable. I told you. It’s an all-encompassing term, mummy,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. 

“You’re the first woman we’ve ever gotten to meet,” his father said from his seat. 

“You’re the first woman we’ve heard of,” mummy corrected. Sarah sat beside Mycroft as mummy Holmes sat beside father. “How did you meet?”  
“I moved in at Bakers Street.”

“He tried to pay her to spy on me,” Sherlock said, sitting up in bed now. 

“Myc! We’ve spoken about this,” mummy scolded. 

“Yes, we have. I keep an eye on all four of you. It won’t change. Would you rather I just don’t tell you?”

“You watch me?”

“Darling, how do you think I showed up where you were? And how do you think I figured out Joey fancies you?”

“Creep,” she scoffed. 

“Ah yes, but I’m your creep,” he said with a tight smile.

“You’re sleeping in the guest room.”

“In my own home? Darling, don’t be daft.”

“Fine, I’ll sleep at Bakers Street.”

“I’ll only watch you at the university then.”

“Mycroft.”

“I need to know who this American Literature gentleman is.” Sarah laughed, hand moving to his knee as mummy Holmes shot father a knowing look. He simply lifted his brow, resuming his bickering with his youngest son.

“I can’t wait to plan the wedding.”

“Mummy, it’s not been long.”

“How long has it been, Sarah?”

“Officially? Like one and a half days. Unofficially? Six weeks with a massive fight in there.”

“You’re counting that in the courtship?”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “You just took a while to figure it out.”

“And he’s already introducing you?”

“Well, mummy, should I have left her to sit at home when I have a day off?”

“We’re aware it’s been quick,” she said, swatting his knee. “I really do care for him.”

“You certainly shut him up,” Sherlock interjected.

“We’ll have to find one for you,” his father laughed.


	13. Chapter 13

“Sarah, we need to talk,” Mycroft had said, sitting down beside her. He knew something was coming, and he knew that if he stayed with Sarah then she would get hurt. Caring was not an advantage; he’d known that since the beginning. Foolishly, Mycroft had thrown caution to the wind. Now, he suspected there were problems at Sherrinford. 

“Yeah?” she’d asked, turning towards him as she closed her book. He could see she knew something was wrong. Sarah had noticed he had been less attentive as of late. She took his hands, chewing the inside of her lip.

“This is not going to work,” he said simply, taking on the stoicism he’d learned throughout his life. He tried not to respond as he saw the way Sarah’s face fell as her eyes welled up. 

“M-myc一please, we can fix things,” she said, voice small. He hated himself as he pulled his hands away. This had to be done, so he kept up. He was protecting her, no matter what she thought. 

“I don’t want to,” he lied, knowing he was succeeding when she stood up and scrubbed her eyes. 

“This is fucking mean,” she whispered, arms wrapped around her middle. “Please, Myc.”

“I’m calling you a car. Get your bag. I’m sorry, Sarah.” She was crying now; the tears fell freely. He wanted to hold her to his chest and tell her the truth, but Sarah was stubborn. She went to his room, packing her back and making her way back out. 

“Here,” she muttered, setting the necklace on the table in front of him. “I’ll miss you, Mycroft.”

“You can keep it.” He hoped she would. He hadn’t considered how much it would hurt to see her take the necklace off. Suddenly, the situation he was in felt real. “It was a gift.”

“I don’t want it. It’s a reminder.” She heard a car pull up, making her way out the door. When she was home, she sat on her couch with a bottle of wine and cried freely. Her apartment now felt alien. Mycroft’s home had become her own the last couple of months. Weekdays were hectic, and she slept in her apartment, but she’d spend the weekend with him, hidden away from everyone else. She hadn’t found the words to tell him yet, but she was in love. Apparently, her feelings weren’t returned.   
What Sarah didn’t know was that Mycroft had poured himself a drink and now sat in his office with the simple gold necklace held in his fist. Sherlock would tell Mycroft he was lonely, and Mycroft would deny it. He simply didn’t have a gage of what lonely felt like. After having Sarah, he did. The walls felt stifling, and he longed to hold her to his chest. She’d cried, and it was his fault. Last time had been accidental. This time, he knew how his words would impact her. 

He did, however, get confirmation that what he had done was right that evening. His brother now knew they had a sister. The entire charade was what it took to draw the truth from him, and the next morning he did as John Watson suggested and went to 221B. He timed his trip carefully, waiting until ten minutes after Sarah would have left. What he did not expect was to run into her as she ran late. He stepped inside, looking up as her door closed. Her bag was slung over her shoulder, her dress was sloppier than it tended to be, and she’d forgone make-up, possibly due to the swelling that was obviously from crying. 

Mycroft Holmes hated himself more in that moment than he ever had before.

“Mycroft?” she whispered, voice raw and low.

“Miss Garner,” he nodded, his determination to keep her as far away as possible strengthened after the events of the night before. A shaky breath escaped her as she shouldered past him to leave for work. Sarah found herself taking a cab rather than walking, trying her best to clean up the tears that had managed to escape. In her office fridge, there was an ice pack for when the knee she had injured in her teens acted up. She prayed she’d have time to hold it against her eyes. Like Mycroft, Sarah hated feeling weak. Unlike Mycroft, she wasn't able to stifle her emotions. Whatever she felt was always evident on her face. 

That’s why she had to call in a substitute for class that afternoon when she got a call from Mrs. Hudson that 221B Baker Street had been the site of an explosion with both Holmes and John Watson upstairs. She didn’t have news for her yet, but Sarah went straight back.


	14. Chapter 14

Sarah wasn’t sure what was happening anymore as she sat in her office the next day. John and Sherlock had gone to some island, and supposedly, Mycroft was in the hospital. She appreciated knowing he was okay, but she also hated knowing he probably wasn’t. If Sherlock and John were okay, Mycroft was. Shaking her head, Sarah went back to grading. SHe wasn’t sure what it was, but she felt like she wasn’t alone in the room. Suddenly, she felt a prick in her neck, moving to rub it but freezing up when she felt something there. She pulled the small-- was that a dart?-- dart out and examined it. She turned to see someone was in the doorway as she felt herself getting tired. 

When Sarah awoke, it was dark and she wasn’t alone. She heard John talking and assumed she was sitting in water. Jerking as she fully regained consciousness, she felt a weight on her ankle and moved to stand. It was dark and the walls were rough. 

“John?” she called.

“Sarah?” he asked, voice thick with disbelief. “You’re dead.”

“I’m fairly sure I’m not.”

“We saw-” 

“What did you see?”

“Doctored video, apparently.”

“John, what’s happening?” she asked, voice small. 

“Eurus,” he said softly. “They have a sister. Sarah, she’s them but without the kindness. She set up a game to test Sherlock. Choosing life and death. The game for Mycroft- he wouldn’t play. There was video. You were in your office with gun at your head. It went off and the video went blank.”

“I didn’t hear a gunshot. I felt something on my neck. It was like a teeny dart.”

“She knows Sherlock will save you and I.”

“John, you’re not mentioning him. Is Mycroft okay?”

“I-I don’t know. She was having Sherlock choose either Mycroft or me. Mycroft tried to get Sherlock to choose him. Sherlock saw through it and was going to shoot himself. We were all hit with the darts too.”

“Where are we?”

“I don’t know, but if what she’s planned follows form, Sherlock has to finish a puzzle to save us. Mycroft is missing. Maybe he has his own puzzle for you.”

“He broke up with me. So she may think she has both their pets, but she doesn’t.”

“He still loves you. Trust me.”

“Sherlock loves you,” she answered, watching his faint smile as the moon shone down. She looked up at the newfound light. 

“I hope,” he said as his gaze went up at the same time as hers.

“Well. John, this is a well.”

“We’re chained in the bottom of a well.” Sherlock was talking to John again, but Sarah couldn’t focus. No one was mentioning Mycroft. When the water started pouring in, finding out what happened to him was what kept her fighting. Sarah was not a swimmer, but she found a place in the walls to hold herself up. Her stomach ached as she considered that he might not be okay.   
He’d kept all of this secret; he hid something that he must have known could affect her. Was that why he ended things?

When they were out of the well, her heart was pounding. Lestrade kept trying to talk to her. She just shook her head, eyes welling up. 

“Where is he?” she kept asking. 

“Eurus put him in her cell.”

“Where is he now?”

“Getting checked out.”

“I need to see him.”

That found her waiting at the helipad, clad in the sweatpants and sweatshirt given to her by the police. Her arms were wrapped around her middle and the war between anger and relief was raging in her belly. As it landed and she saw Mycroft again, she started to cry. When Mycroft saw her, he was in shock. He’d been told she was alive, but the reality of seeing her had him getting out of the helicopter and moving to hold her to him. She clung to his suit, crying into his chest, and Mycroft found himself noting this was the third time in as many days her tears were his fault.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. After thinking she was gone, he didn’t care who saw him bury his face in her hair as he cradled her against him. “I’m so, so sorry, Sarah.”

“I’m so mad at you,” she managed, still holding onto him. “But I’m also relieved.”

“We can talk about the anger later. I-I need your help to get through the rest of the day.”

“Mummy gets here tomorrow. We’re going to your house.”

“Sarah, I didn’t want to end things.”

“Not now,” she answered, voice harsher than she expected.


	15. Chapter 15

“I could have died,” Sarah muttered, head buried in Mycroft’s chest. “You could have died.”

“I know,” Mycroft whispered, holding her against him.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I thought I could handle it.”

“That’s not how a relationship works, you idiot,” she answered more harshly than she intended.”We’re supposed to be a team. You’re supposed to trust me.”

“Sarah, I’m forty-one. I have operated alone for a long time.”

“You have to choose if you want to be in a relationship or ‘operate alone.’ I’m not only going to settle for part of a relationship.”

“And what exactly would telling you have done?”

“I might not have gone to work. I could have been more aware of my surroundings. I could have been in a state to help when I woke up at the bottom of a well. I could have been saved crying and spent time trying to help,” she rattled off, sitting up as she looked down at him. “In what way did this play out any better?”

Mycroft stayed quiet a while, looking up at her. She was right. God, did he hate to admit it, but she was right. 

“I’ll tell you the truth in the future,” he nodded slightly. “And I do trust you.”

“I-I don’t know if I trust you.”

“Are you willing to try?” he asked her, sitting up and studying her face. “I will try to be better. I will have to relearn some long standing habits. But I will try.”

“I’ll try,” she nodded slightly, chewing her lip. 

“Sarah, this is not easy for me to say, but I love you. I’m afraid of what that means, both for myself and for your safety.”

“I love you, too. That said, you’ve had two chances now, Mycroft. And this time you are starting from scratch. I’ll help you through the aftermath of all of this, but I will not just fall back into how we were.”

“Duly noted,” he murmured against her hair. “Just, please, stay here tonight. I’m afraid. I didn’t set all of this with Eurus up, but I will be the one dealing with the aftermath.”

“I’ll stay.”

“Come tomorrow?” he whispered, rubbing her back. “Sit with me until mummy and father get there.”

“Myc, I’ll be here for you. I love you. That part hasn’t changed. You just have to prove you won’t be keeping secrets from me.”

“I’ll tell you everything I can,” he promised, closing his eyes as they laid back again. The room was quiet as he remembered the last few days. Tentatively, he kissed her softly.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked softly, cupping his cheek.

“I was so scared,” he murmured. “It was all terrifying but then I thought you were gone. Sarah, we shouldn’t be together. I’ll inevitably put you in danger again.”

“Mycroft, I’m not going anywhere. I didn’t die, did I?” He drew a quick breath in and held her tighter. “That wasn’t real, remember?”

“It felt real. And my head was spinning, and it was so hard to imagine you died thinking I didn’t care for you. I hated myself, Sarah. I still do. I’m weak. I know caring does not make one think more rationally. That’s why I’m forty-one and unmarried. I chose to be alone. But you’re you and you seem to like my company, and I don’t think I’m capable of ending our relationship. But it doesn’t seem fair to you. Aside from danger, I can’t help but wonder if someone like the young man in your department would be better. He is most likely more adept when it comes to handling emotions. He isn’t an old man who works constantly and can’t devote his full attention to you most of the time. He wouldn’t be afraid to hold your hand because someone like Eurus might hurt you.”

Sarah smoothed her hand over his cheek. Maybe it was the events of the day with Eurus, but Mycroft wanted to share his feelings, something she wasn’t going to fight. She loved him. He knew that now, she hoped. Sarah was always independent. She usually had too many balls in the air as it is, and the fact that she could spend a large portion of her time with Mycroft working made things better. Did she wish they both had less going on? Yes. Would she trade being able to sit in the same room as him for a man who was gone less? Never.

“Mycroft, I don’t want the guy from my department. I don’t want someone younger. I want you. Caring does not make you weak. Denying how you feel does. Part of emotion is opening yourself to be hurt. And you know what? I like what I have with you. Emotion isn’t your strong suit, but I can see you trying. You’re my best friend. Trust is what we built this on, and while it may be broken right now, I do trust you to try to repair it. I don’t care how often you work. You always set Friday or Saturday evening aside. The effort you put forth to see me means more than I could ever say. It’ll be different now. But we’re a team, Mycroft. You and me. And you’re not even old. You’re forty-one. Seriously? Are we calling that old now, because if so, I love me an old man.”

“I think you’re ridiculous,” he murmured, the closest to crying Mycroft Holmes would ever come. “But I love you, too. And I’ll remember you’re my better half.”

“Damn straight,” she teased lightly, smoothing his hair back. He rolled to open the nightstand, pulling the simple gold necklace. 

“Please wear it again,” he requested, lips in her hair. She nodded and he fastened it happily. 

“I felt naked without it,” she chuckled softly.

“Do you know what this confirmed for me, more than anything?” 

“What?”

“I’ve wasted too much of my time with you keeping up appearances. I’m going to kiss you in public more.”

“Please do,” she laughed, wrapping around him.


	16. Chapter 16

The next morning found Sarah up, dressed, and across from Mycroft in a cafe. She knew he was nervous. He kept adjusting his suit as though he ever had a hair out of place. She was clad in a dress she was grateful to have found in his laundry. 

“Darling, it’s all going to be fine,” she said softly, reaching across the table to take his hand.

“Yes, well, one can hope,” he smiled tightly. 

“Breathe.”

“It’s not exactly voluntary.”

“Neither is caring. You need to accept both. Mummy and father will learn to forgive you.”

“Again, one can hope.” 

“One can know,” she said simply. “They’re your parents. If they want to see her, don’t stop them.”

“You’re quite the optimist,” he hummed, his breakfast being set before him. Sarah knew he was nervous because the diet went out the window. He ordered the biggest breakfast he could and she knew it would make him relax. She ate her own food, taking his hand rather than his arm as they made their way to his office at the Diogenes club. Once inside, she sat across from his desk as they waited for Sherlock to bring their parents in. 

“Will you stay?” he asked, voice soft as he twisted the ring on his right hand. She knew now it was his uncle Rudy’s and a reminder to him it was his job now to protect the family.

“If you’d like me to,” she whispered, smiling softly. “We’re a team.” He gave her a gentle smile, and she moved to stand to the side as mummy and father Holmes came in.

“He’s not limited,” Sarah interjected as mummy expressed her contempt for the way the situation had been handled. “You forget he didn’t start all of this. Rudy did. He maintained it to save you pain.”

“She’d our daughter,” mummy argued. “And you are not a part of this.”

“She also nearly killed one of your sons, myself, and John Watson. And murdered Sherlock’s friend.”

“And she is part of this family now, mummy. Just like John Watson.” He took Sarah’s hand in his, finishing his justifications as best he could. Mummy was furious, and Sarah could feel that some of it was now directed at her. She didn’t care. Each time Mycroft told his parents why he’d kept Eurus hidden, his grip on her hand tightened. They eventually left, storming out with Sherlock on their heels. Mycroft had given in, agreeing for the entire family to go visit Eurus. Sherlock would enter first, and then himself, mummy and father would sit to the side. 

“Please come with us,” he’d whispered as soon as they were alone again. 

“Mummy won’t like that.”

“You’re right. I just don’t want you out of my line of sight.”

“We’ll see, okay? See how she responds to the idea.”

“If you can’t, promise to stay with John and Rosie.”

“I will,” she whispered, moving to kiss him softly. “I’m sorry I interjected. She was insulting you and I couldn’t just-”

“It’s alright,” he nodded. “You are part of this family.”

“You really think of me as that permanent?”

“I do. I know you’re angry or I’d want you to move in.”

“If you don’t mind me keeping the apartment until I feel better, I’ll move in now. I don’t think I could sleep away from you.”

“Then I’ll clear space in the closet.”

She squeezed his fingers, letting go to sit across from him and grade papers until he was ready to leave. He was no less worried, she could tell. His brow furrowed and didn’t stop as he did paperwork and fielded calls. Lady Smallwood came by and she couldn’t help but smile as she and Mycroft gave her the same tight smile. Eventually, he was finished and she only had a few more papers to grade. 

“We didn’t have lunch,” she said, packing up her bag. “Should we get dinner?” 

“That would be wise,” he agreed, leading her from the building. “Once things begin to blow over with this entire event, we’ll be having a dinner for those involved. Unfortunately, that will include Lady Smallwood. Fortunately, for you at least, it will include Sherlock, John, and Gregory.”

“Why are we doing that?”

“It’s polite. One of them had an issue, they threw a dinner to express gratitude. It’s a new cycle. Many of them kept what happened out of the news.”

“Can I hang all over you to piss Lady Smallwood off?”

“I’d prefer it. I told you, no more avoiding affection.”

“Then I can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've chosen a stopping place for this section! I'll probably start a new story after 20.


	17. Chapter 17

“You’re sure mummy doesn’t mind me coming?” Sarah asked softly, smoothing her skirt again. 

“She seems to understand you’re part of the family now,” Mycroft assured her. She took his arm, leaning into him as they waited for Sherlock to bring their parents. 

“I hope she doesn’t feel like I’m intruding.”

“You’re not. If nothing else, mummy needs to understand that I need you there.” A car pulled up, and Sarah watched the other three Holmeses climb out. 

“Mummy,” Mycroft smiled softly, moving to hug his mother. She was tense, as was his father. 

“They’ll lighten up once they realize why he did it,” Sherlock said, moving beside Sarah as she hugged him. 

“I hope,” she smiled softly. “Did John and Rosie move in?”

“They did.”

“It’s a two bedroom, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he said, hands in his pockets. 

“Did you finally figure it out?” Sherlock cleared his throat, looking to his feet. 

“Father did say I needed to find myself someone to shut me up.”

“I’m happy for you. How is being a stepdad?”

“She’s fascinating. And brilliant.” Sarah smiled, rubbing his back as she moved to hug mummy.

“I’m glad to see you,” Sarah said, her voice soft.

“Yes, well,” mummy answered. “I am glad to see you, too.”

“Myc and I wanted to know if you’ll come over for dinner tonight. I know it will be a long day, but I thought dinner together may help.”

“It will take a lot more than that, but it’s a start,” she kissed Sarah’s temple. “You’re good for him.”

“Thanks,” she answered, hugging father before they all made their way to the helicopter that was awaiting them. Sarah sat beside Mycroft, hand in his. He was nervous, she could tell. There was a barely perceptible tapping of his foot. She squeezed his fingers, looking up at him. His expression softened, squeezing hers in return.   
Sherlock took his violin, and Mycroft let go of Sarah’s hand to follow him as he led the group to Eurus’s cell. Mummy, father, Mycroft, and Sarah all sat in a row against the wall as Sherlock played the violin with his sister. As she watched them, mummy Holmes’ eyes welled up. She’d greeted Eurus, trying to ask her questions. Quickly, she realized her efforts were moot. Her hand went to her son’s knee, and Mycroft dutifully held his mother’s hand, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and passing it to her. Sarah hand her hands folded in her lap, underestimating the way being near Eurus would impact her. 

Until now, Eurus was a person in the shadows, one who had somehow put Sarah in a well. Had Sherlock been any slower, Sarah and John would have drowned. Having never seen her, Sarah could pretend nothing had happened. Seeing her, Sarah found her heart beating faster and the reality setting in. What happened was not a dream, and it was orchestrated by the woman playing violin behind the glass. Mummy and father tried again to speak to Eurus, but she didn’t acknowledge them. That final moment is when she saw the reality reach both mummy and father that Eurus was not going to just join in. If she spoke, it would be a long wait. 

When it came time to leave, Sarah’s grip on Mycroft’s hand was tight. He rubbed her back, realizing she’d been so focused on helping him that he hadn’t taken the time to help her. He sat beside her on the helicopter, planning for Sherlock to take mummy and father to pick up John and Rosie while he and Sarah started dinner. 

“Sarah, what’s wrong?” he asked softly when they were inside his house again. 

“She’s real. Didn’t have a face to what happened, so I could pretend it wasn’t real. Now it is real.”

“I’ll never let her hurt you again.”

“I know. I’m just processing. I guess I didn’t realize I almost died.”

“It can be hard. Do you think you need to talk to me or a therapist?”

“We’ll start with you,” she murmured, wrapping around him.

“I love you, darling,” he whispered into her hair.

“And I love you.”


	18. Chapter 18

Sarah was not used to having catered parties in her home. As Mycroft spoke with the caterers, Sarah found herself straightening the cushions on the couch. She hadn’t put her heels on yet, opting to set them in the kitchen. In order to match him, she’d found a blue wiggle dress that matched the color of his tie. His fondness for this style of dress on her didn’t hurt her choice. She heard the first knock on the door, darting to the kitchen to step into her heels. She adjusted her necklace, going to Mycroft’s side.

As each guest arrived, Mycroft introduced her as his partner, something that made the butterflies in her stomach come to life. Mycroft couldn’t help but watch the way Sarah handled herself as she greeted each guest. When Sherlock and John arrived, she wrapped them each in a hug, only leaving Mycroft’s side for a moment to see the latest pictures of Rosie.

When Lady Smallwood came in, Sarah greeted her sweetly before returning to Mycroft’s arm. Mycroft felt his chest swell as Sarah stayed close to him. If there was one thing he had yet to adjust to when it came to their courtship, it was the way she hung on him. The same part of him that felt immense pride at seeing a necklace he bought her on her neck felt proud to know a woman who looked like her was marking her claim on him. 

When she felt she had sufficiently staked her claim, she kissed his cheek, going to mingle. Hosting these things was certainly easier with her around. It appeared she didn’t have to try as hard as he did. She led everyone to the dining room table, stepping past Lady Smallwood to take the seat beside Mycroft at the head of the table. Sherlock and John had already taken the other side, and Sarah was not one to step to the side.

“It’s going well, I think,” Mycroft said softly, his brows lifting in a way she’d come to realize meant that if they weren’t around his colleagues, he’d be grinning over at her.

“I agree,” she smiled, setting her napkin in her lap as the food was served. “Your speech was lovely.”

“Thank you. I had quite the writer tweak it for me.”

“Can you two stop looking at each other like that?” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes as John swatted his leg under the table.

“Be careful or I’ll kiss him,” Sarah threatened and Sherlock grimaced. Sarah’s hand rested on Mycroft’s knee between courses, and once their guests were gone, she couldn’t have been happier. Caterers filled the dishwasher, and soon it was just the two of them.

“You were perfect, Sarah,” he smiled, pulling her against him. 

“I’m glad you think so. I had this incredibly handsome date,” she hummed, smoothing his lapels.

“Yes? Well, he’s a lucky man,” Mycroft murmured, pressing kisses along her neck. His phone went off, and Sarah let out a whine. “I can ignore it. It’s not work.”

“Yeah?” she grinned, arms wrapping around him. The phone rang again and she sighed, pulling back. “Go check.”

“Oh for christ--” Mycroft mumbled, answering the phone. “Yes mummy?” Sarah let out a laugh, covering her mouth. He watched her, smiling softly. “Yes, the party is over... Sherlock really did stay... Sarah is here… Mummy, she lives here… We miss you too. We’ll see you next week when we visit Eurus… No mummy, I do love you. It’s just quite late… Sarah is already in bed. But, I’m sure she’d love to go to the botanical garden with you in a few weeks. I need to get some rest. I love you...Sleep well… Good night.” 

“You’re a good son,” Sarah smiled softly, pulling him close again.

“Yes? Well, she just wanted to talk for a minute,” he said, smoothing his hands over her hips. 

“And you answered.” She tugged him towards their room. “Now, how about we get a bath. You’ve got quite a large tub, and we haven’t taken advantage of it.”

“Whatever you want, darling Sarah.”


	19. Chapter 19

_Pack your bag. The semester ended, and I managed a few days off. -MH_

_Where are we going? -SG_

_You’ve been talking about the water for a month. Pack comfortable shoes. Your passport, too.-MH_

Sarah smiled softly as she tucked her phone away. The last few weeks had been hard. She barely slept, and Mycroft didn’t sleep. The party had been fine, but they both found themselves worrying about the other. The event, as she and Mycroft had taken to referring to the night Eurus had orchestrated, had happened in February, throwing off the semester for Sarah, and ending the semester felt like the only way to get back to normal. She’d been telling Mycroft that when she was still in the U.S. she celebrated the end of the semester by hiding out on a beach. The fact he’d found a way to get her there made her feel happier than she cared to admit. It would also be their first trip in the six months they had been together, and she couldn’t help but be excited.

“Are you ready?” Mycroft asked, kissing her softly when he got home at noon. He intended for them to have dinner at their location tonight.

“I am,” she smiled, pointing to her bag.

“Where are we going?”

“I have a plane arranged. We’ll start in Naples. Today, tomorrow, and Friday in Naples. Those are days I have to work some from out trip. Then, we’re taking a ferry to Capri. We’ll have Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and a little of Tuesday on Capri. I’ve told everyone I am only to be contacted if England falls for the time we’re in Capri.”

“Myc,” she said, wrapping around his middle. “This is too much.”

“Sarah, I have a reason to take a vacation,” he murmured as he held her. “We both need to decompress.”

He was tempted every time he thought about the trip to sneak away in Naples and buy an engagement ring. Maybe he’d do it in Capri? Was six months too early in a relationship? Maybe he’d call John Watson. Mummy would tell Sarah he’d been considering it. He knew Sarah wanted to end up married, he just didn’t know when.

“Let’s get going then,” she smiled softly, kissing him.

“We should. Right now, I’ve planned it so we’ll be eating dinner in Naples.”

“Have I mentioned lately I don’t deserve you?”

“You keep saying it, and that’s why I find you ridiculous.” She laughed, placing her bag beside his when the car arrived. She slept soundly against his arm as they flew, and Mycroft found himself watching her. He ended up talking to John, who was no help.

_If you’re ready, it’s time. Have you talked about it?_

They had, of course. Not with a definitive time frame, but she’d mentioned it when they received the invitation to her coworker’s wedding. _“Myc, promise me we can have a tiny wedding.”_ Maybe he was crazy, but they’d survived more than most couples do in the first three months of their relationship. He decided he’d buy the ring the next day. He’d booked her a morning in the spa to give him time to do his work. Maybe he’d sneak off then. Next time she mentioned marriage, prompted or not, he’d give her the ring. If it was in Italy, great. If not, he’d have a ring from this trip to give her. That found him having finished his work just a little early, holding one of her rings in one hand and glad he’d picked up enough Italian in his life to handle this. When he looked through the antique engagement rings the woman behind the counter showed him, an emerald ring stood out. Sarah wore deep blues and emerald greens more than any other color; they complimented her red hair and fair skin. The ring was a square cut emerald with three small diamonds in a triangle on either side.

When the woman helping him, Benedetta, saw the way he looked at it, she informed him it was the same size as the ring he’d brought in. That was all it took for Mycroft Holmes to buy the emerald ring and place the small velvet box in the breast pocket of his blazer. He took back his promise to himself to wait until she mentioned marriage the moment he saw Sarah walking across the piazza towards his table at the cafe. The ring was the perfect fit for the woman walking towards him. He’d always known she preferred vintage dresses, but seeing her in a navy, halter necked dress with a full skirt, red cat eye sunglasses, and the red purse and lips to match knocked the breath out of Mycroft Holmes. Reality sank in as the box in his pocket suddenly felt heavy in the best way. Sarah Garner walking across a piazza in Italy felt like a movie scene and Mycroft knew he was going to ask her.

"Hi, Myc,” she smiled softly, kissing his temple.

“Hello, darling,” he said, pulling her chair out. They’d be having coffee, but then he was taking her out to lunch and then dinner. They’d have a view, and Mycroft Holmes decided the spontaneity that had taken him over wouldn’t end at buying the ring.

“Did you finish work up?” she asked, sipping the drink he’d already ordered for her.

“I did. How was your spa day?”

“Perfect. You’re spoiling me.”

“It’s my job. One I plan to keep for quite a while.”


	20. Chapter 20

Mycroft hadn’t proposed to Sarah in Naples or on their first day in Capri. She’d found out about the Villa San Michele and was excited explore the gardens. That Saturday was going to be spent at lunch and then wandering. It was not something Mycroft would usually want to do, but he knew she would light up. Gardening was coming to be one of her hobbies, especially since he’d agreed to let her start growing a garden in his- their- backyard. 

“Aren’t you going to be hot?” she hummed, applying her lipstick in the mirror. Mycroft knew he’d made the right decision when he realized how much he enjoyed watching something as simple as her getting ready. Maybe it was because she looked like she’d stepped out of one of the old films he kept for his projector. She kept her rollers on as she did her make up, always wearing a dark green silk robe. In the past, he’d found others getting ready to be boring. He dressed sharply, but quickly. He’d tap his foot, check e-mails, and whatever else he could to distract himself. The situations had come few and far between, usually not with someone he cared about in the same way, but now he sat beside her, smiling to himself as she ran her fingers through her hair.

“I’ll be fine,” he chuckled, noting the way that being fussed over no longer concerned him, so long as it was Sarah doing the fussing. 

“You’re wearing a suit.”

“It’s linen.”

“Okay,” she smiled, slipping the pretty blue and white striped sundress on. 

“Aren’t your feet going to be sore?” he chided lightly as she stepped into a pair of low heels.

“Touche,” she laughed, placing her hands on his chest. “I guess we both have our quirks.”

“I suppose we do,” he smiled, brushing her hair back. “Lunch and then the garden?”

“Yes, please,” she answered, sunglasses and purse in hand. She watched him now. He liked to pretend he was always ready first, but he took much longer to adjust his suit and check his appearance in the mirror. Had someone told her early on they’d be here, she’d have laughed. He wasn’t her usual type. Now, she couldn’t picture life without him. He was treated by those around him as heartless, but she knew better. Mycroft Holmes loved selectively, but fiercely. His parents, Sherlock, John, Rosie, and herself were the chosen few. He’d do anything he could to keep them safe, and she knew he worried about his younger brother constantly. Watching him learn to navigate a romantic relationship had been difficult, but he was trying and it led him to schedule the most romantic trip she could have imagined. 

“I’m ready,” he said simply, taking her hand. The weight of the ring box in his pocket made his nerves grow. Logically, he knew she’d say yes, but the most logical answer never seemed to be right with her. Perhaps what threw him off the most was the fact they were together. Somehow, she thought him a viable partner and that led him to want to prove him right. They settled in for lunch, and soon he was following her through the gardens. 

“Maybe I can make the garden at home this impressive,” she hummed, looking down the path they were walking. “Pathways and sitting areas. Everything covered in plants.”

“That would be quite relaxing,” he admitted, stepping towards the railings to look out over the water. “I’m afraid I can’t take this view home for you.”

“I’d rather have you than the view, anyway.” He didn’t know how to broach the proposal, arm wrapping around her as she stood beside him.

“I certainly have a better view each morning.”

“You’re a sap, Mycroft Holmes,” she teased, kissing his cheek.

“I simply know I am fortunate you ever came back.”

“I love you,” she smiled softly. “You’re stuck with me.” 

Surely, this was the moment. 

“Well,” he said simply, pulling the ring from his pocket as he moved to kneel. “I love you too. And, I wanted to know if you’d be willing to become my wife? If I am stuck with you, best to make it official.”

Maybe to others, the words weren’t the most romantic, but the fact that Mycroft Holmes was kneeling, in Capri, with her, told her that he had changed. For the most part, Mycroft was the same, but now, he understood he needed to try. That they were a team. There was only one answer.

“Yes,” she managed as he slid the ring onto her finger. She pulled him up from where he knelt, kissing him deeply. “Yes, you absolute sap. I’ll marry you.”

“Good,” he murmured, wrapping around her. “I decided to do something spontaneous.”

“So you planned a trip to propose?”

“No. I bought the ring in Naples.”

“Oh my god, you really have become a romantic.”

“Yes, well, you’ve had that effect.”

“You do know we have to call mummy when we get to the hotel.”

“It can wait until London.”

“True. I have other things I’d like to do when we get to the hotel.

“Sarah,” he said, clearing his throat. SHe chuckled softly. “Well, do you approve of the ring?”

“It’s beautiful, Myc.”

“Suits you,” he murmured. He complied happily when Sarah stopped a passerby, happily showing off her ring and requesting they take a picture for her. She stood beside Mycroft who wrapped an arm around her. Her hand came to rest on his chest, a broad smile on her face. Only the slightest of smiles crossed his face. Once they were home in London, he had a copy of the photo framed twice: one for his desk and one to place in their home. He followed her lead planning the wedding, showing her off at every chance.

Wedding planning, however, would be the true test of his patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end for this part of the story!   
> I'm mapping out the next one right now.   
> Feedback is deeply appreciated


End file.
